


From the Grave

by Winterfellsummerose17



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire, Asoiaf - Fandom, game of thrones
Genre: 2 year time jump, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Sortof-ish kidnapping plot, fake death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-02 06:44:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18805825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterfellsummerose17/pseuds/Winterfellsummerose17
Summary: Sansa decides to start a new after constant heartbreak. She conspires with Bronn to help achieve that plan.Of course, it isn't all that simple.None of the songs in her life are.Work Title inspired by From the Grave by James Arthur :)





	1. Run, Run, Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A plan set in motion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title inspired by Rudimental & Will Heard's song Run
> 
> Highly Recommend listening to it:)
> 
> Jonsa fam, you're great:')

“Ser Bronn, I am glad you got my message.” Sansa greeted him in the broken tower.

“I should be wondering why the Lady of Winterfell is out of her fancy castle and away from her knights, asking to see me. It’s been a while, I must admit. ” Bronn stretched and smirked at Sansa. Sansa cringed inwardly and resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“Ser Bronn, I am not asking you to lie with me nor do I have an interest.” Sansa rose her chin at him and Bronn shrugged.

“It doesn’t hurt to guess. I am a betting man after all.”

“....Ser Bronn, I have come here to ask a favor of you.”

“What is it? Are you going to promise a castle to me like the bloody Lannisters? I don’t think your bannermen would be happy with that.”

“No, I am not offering you a castle. I am offering you to be paid in full by Cersei.”

“How do you suppose that in your pretty little head of yours?” Bronn scoffed at her.

“I want you to help me fake my death.” Sansa narrowed her eyes and Bronn’s jaw became ajar.

“Wait….what...why?!”

“I….lo...Westeros has _not returned love_ to _me._ My _heart_ gets burned every day and I become icier. I fear if I stay longer here, my love for others will no longer exist. I want to start over in Braavos and get _warm_ again.” Sansa sighed softly.

“How does helping you fake your own death get me paid in full by Cersei?” Bronn rose an eyebrow.

“Cersei still sees me as responsible for her _beloved_ Joffrey’s death. She’s wanted me dead since he choked on poison. If you could show her solid proof that you _killed_ me, then you would see an insurmountable amount of rewards coming your way.”

“How would this happen?” Bronn rose his chin in interest.

“I would give you my green dress, shift, smallclothes, cloak, hair tie, and boots to tear into shreds and you can soak blood on them. I would then cut my hair off to my shoulders and you can soak that into the blood as well. Then, you would pour blood on the floor. Lastly, you would take me to White Harbor. I will get to Braavos and you would go back to Kings Landing.”

“What if she asks for more than hair?”

“Kill a bird and give one of the wing bones to her. Maester Luwin taught me about birds, how their wing bones are similar to our bones.” Sansa smiled to herself at the good memories of the past.

“What about your Knights?”

“Ser Brienne and Podrick have ridden off to Kings Landing. Ser Jaime left last night.”

“He….of course, he did. The bloody golden fool. If they’re gone, how am I supposed to know there wouldn’t be guards posted around if I take the Lady of Winterfell?”

“My guards are loyal, kind, and true. However, they would be _much_ better suited for something else. Guarding is not their calling in life. Arya went right past them when she came back home.”

“Maids? Servants?”

“Ser Bronn, there’s no…..”

“What about that brother of yours?”

Sansa paused.

* * *

A few nights ago, she remembered the ale giving her some courage. She looked at Jon and felt she was on fire. He looked even more handsome and young when for a moment the weight of the world wasn’t on his shoulders. His dark brown eyes were twinkling and a merry grin appeared on his face. She loved him _so much_ and she looked at him with hope and anxiousness. Maybe, just maybe, he’d finally _see_ and _know._ But, as the songs in Sansa’s life would declare-there was no love for her. Jon turned around and locked eyes with his Dragon Queen. She was beautiful and petite which Sansa wished she could be. She also had what Sansa wanted since she arrived at Castle Black.

Jon’s love, respect for her opinion, and defense.

It seemed all that happened between the two of them was all but a farce. To trick Sansa into believing someone like _him_ could love someone like _herself._ There was always a prettier, stronger, and smaller woman that would take Sansa’s place. No one would ever marry her for love.

She got up from her chair and turned away. She needed more to drink to ease the pain of her heart icing over and breaking into pieces.

Sansa talked to Sandor for a brief moment and it took everything in her to not scream at him and slap him hard across the face for his vile comments about her second marriage. Sansa, instead relied on her courtesy while he reminded her of that ugly time of her life.

She had become stronger, that’s true. She didn’t need the vile things that had happened to her to make her stronger. Instead, she gained strength from listening and learning. She grew strength by being around those she loved and cared for. She grew her strength being in the Walls of Winterfell when she and Jon reclaimed it as _their home._

She had felt tears on her eyes and had run into her room. Or what she thought to be her room. Bran sat stoically in his chair looking at the fire burning in the fireplace.

“Hello, Sansa.”

“Hi, Bran. I am sorry to have interrupted you during this time. I’ll go…”

“I’m glad you came. I was waiting for you.”

“...Why? What do you need to tell me?”

“You will learn information tomorrow that will change _our_ family forever. Oaths and promises do not hold over others’ safety, remember that. Lastly, get _warm._ ”

“Get _warm_? Like in front of the fire?” Sansa laughed softly.

“No, you’ll know soon enough.” A small smile came on Bran’s face.

* * *

“He’ll be fine with it. He’s the one who told me to get warm after all.” Sansa finally replied and Bronn started cackling.

“I’m sorry my lady, excuse my language. You are full of shit.”

“You’re not sorry Ser Bronn and I am not full of as you say “ _shit”._  You can ask Bran yourself about what he…..”

“Oh, I wasn’t talking about the smart one. I was talking about the dumb, broody bastard brother of yours.”

_Oh…….._

“Jon is quite busy in the war. I am sure with his Dragon Queen by his side and how strong their love is for one another, that my death wouldn’t greatly affect him. ”  Sansa gave him a fake smile all the while hoping her voice didn’t reveal a thing.

“....you’re sure of that? If he wins...he could ask his Queen for my head.

“Whatever Cersei rewards you for my death, take it and go. When you are getting your reward, you’ll be distracting her from the war. Less of an advantage for her and more time for Daenerys, Jon and their armies to come to Kings Landing. By then, you’ll be out in time. Essentially, you’d win your bet. You finally get your reward and you don’t die because of it.” Sansa assured him and Bronn tilted his head in thought.

“You have yourself a deal.” He stuck out his hand and Sansa shook it.

“We have a deal.”

“When do you want this to happen?”

“I was hoping we would act on it tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“Yes. I already have everything packed and ready to go. There are some birds around here and you have a crossbow. We also have some bows and arrows if those do not work.

“You’re a very smart girl.”

“Thank you, Ser Bronn.”

* * *

Sansa looked at her mirror one last time. She was wearing a tunic and pants along with worn-in boots and a hooded cloak. The scene had been set and now it was time to go. She slung her bag full of coin, sewing supplies, some food, and extra clothes over her shoulders.

She took a deep sigh as she walked out of her rooms, caressing the door for the good memories it had given her.

It was a risk but she had to say goodbye. She hoped he was awake. She slid into his room and Bran, per the usual was sitting in front of the fire.

“I just wanted to say goodbye as this might be the last time we see each other again. I am going to miss you, Bran. I love you.” Sansa came towards him, kissing him on the cheek.

“We’ll see each other again. Now go, and get _warm._ I love you as well.” Bran gave a small smile and it reminded her of when he was a sweet and innocent little boy.

“I’ll see you soon then. Winter has Come.”

“Winter has Come. Good luck Sansa.”

Sansa was almost out of the room when she heard Bran speak up.

“Oh, he’s waiting for you outside.”

“Ser Bronn?”

“No, Ghost. Take him with you.”

“To Braavos? He’s a Direwolf. He’d be much happier here or at the Wall.”

“He is happy with the person he is bonded to. He’ll adjust. He always has.”

“Ghost is bonded to me? He’s….”

“Summer and Shaggydog protected Jon. Jon asked Ghost to protect you while he is gone.”

Sansa bit the inside of her cheek. It was too happy for her to actually believe Jon would ask Ghost to protect her. Maybe he did, back when Sansa wasn’t _tainted_ and _icy_ with her heart along with her mind and emotions. She had those feelings back then too. She was better at hiding them then. What changed? He was someone else’s now. Now he had fallen in love with someone and they loved him. Sansa felt like a fool. She shouldn’t have let herself get attached to him so quickly. She should’ve been more careful.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea to bring Ghost if I am trying to get _warm._ I love _Ghost, I just..._  I _want him_ _to be safe and happy._ I want him to be free to whatever he chooses to do and so can I.”

“Ghost _chose_ you. He is sticking by your side. He _loves you_ . You _love him._ Take _him with you_. Don’t leave a part of your heart behind.” Bran declared and Sansa was rendered speechless for a moment.

“That settles it then, doesn’t it? Ghost and I are going to Braavos.” Sansa chuckled.

“It does. See you when the time comes.”

* * *

Sansa sneaked out to the stables to see Ghost growling at Ser Bronn who was pointing his crossbow at him.

Sansa ran in front of Ghost. “Ser Bronn! What in Seven Hells are you doing?!”

“You don’t see that _beast_ you’re standing in front of?!”

“He’s not a beast. He’s a direwolf...he’s coming with me.” Sansa reached back to caress Ghost’s head.

“You’re bringing him to Braavos?” Ser Bronn cocked his head sideways.

“Yes.” Sansa smiled as she rose her chin up.

“You do know he can’t fit on a horse, right?”

“How do you think he got to Winterfell? He followed _us._ He’ll run behind you and I as we go to the White Knife. He can either run alongside the river bank or get in the boat with us. Whatever he likes best. He’ll sail with me.”

“Are you sure they’ll allow him on the ship?”

“With a bit of coin and Ghost’s sweet nature, I’m sure _we’ll_ get to Braavos.” Sansa scratched Ghost behind his now half left ear.

_That reminds me, I’ll find some balm for him and stitch it up as best as I can. My sweet warrior._

“Whatever you say, Lady Stark. We best get a move on now before the fools notice you’re missing.”

* * *

 

 


	2. Dreams and Nightmares

“Thank you, Ser Bronn for helping me.” Sansa turned to him before she headed on the ship to Braavos. The trip down the White Knife had been good. Ghost had laid his head in her lap as they had paddled towards White Harbor. She rewarded his good behavior by getting him smoked meat from a street vendor, to which he happily wagged his tail.

“It wasn’t that big of a deal,” He shrugged.

“It was for me. I can live _free_ again and hopefully, I’ll feel some _warmth_ in my heart again soon. Before I get on this ship to Braavos, I wanted to give this to you.”

Bronn watched as she dug into her bag, soon giving him a piece of cloth. Bronn looked down it and stumbled backward. It had a white lamb holding a golden goblet on a green field. Beneath it, words were stitched _Ser Bronn, Proud and Faithful Knight of the Seven Kingdoms._

“What is this?”

“I couldn’t help but notice when you mentioned the castle you have been promised that you don’t have a banner, Ser Bronn. I wanted you to have one for your future family.” Sansa smiled at him and Bronn felt a smile creep on his face. He now knew why Sandor and Tyrion made moon eyes at her. She was as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside.

“Thank you, Lady Stark. I greatly appreciate it. I wish you and Ghost a happy life.”

“I wish you a good life as well, Ser Bronn.” Sansa nodded towards him and then got on the ship with Ghost by her side.

Bronn surmised if he were able to survive this upcoming war unscathed, he would hang up his sword and find himself a wife. If he were to have a daughter, he’d name her Sansa.

Now, of course, he’d have to ask permission to change his name after he confessed to _killing_ Lady Sansa Stark.

Maybe he could get Qyburn to help _him_ fake his _death._  He chuckled and then walked towards his ship.

* * *

Ghost snored softly while Sansa ran her fingers through his fur. A few passengers were murmuring softly, the rest asleep around her.

She fought off sleep, she couldn’t help it. Hope and anxiety filling her belly. She was going to live her new life. She would soon no longer feel that _burden_  in her heart.

_The first thing I want to do once I get settled is…..open a shop! I can make all sorts of clothes and mend things for people._

“Passengers, arise! We have docked at Braavos!” The shipman’s cheery voice filled the lower part of the ship and Sansa smiled to herself as she woke up Ghost.

_Here we go, sweet boy. Onto our new lives!_

* * *

 “Ser Bronn, you have returned without _either_ of my brothers.” Cersei narrowed her eyes at him.

“Your Grace, I’ve brought you something much  _ better _ ,” Bronn smirked.

“What could possibly be better than the heads of my traitor brothers?”

“This,” Bronn held out a bag and nodded towards Ser Gregor. The looming giant grabbed the bag out of his hands. He then handed it over to Cersei.

“What’s in this?” Cersei looked down at the bag.

“Open it.”

Cersei slowly unopened the bag, with her left eyebrow slowly rising up.

“Whose bones and hair are these?”

“Lady Sansa Stark’s.” Bronn rose his chin and Cersei’s jaw became ajar. She blinked in disbelief, pursed her lips together, and then closed her eyes for a moment.

“How…..how did you get past her sworn shield?”

“Brienne of Tarth and Podrick Payne were not there. Nor anyone of great substance either. All the Stark guards are quite pathetic at their job. It wasn’t hard to ambush her in her rooms.” Bronn smirked.

“Did she suffer?” Cersei spoke after a beat of silence.

“As anyone would in death. Begged for mercy, which I did not give.”

“Why didn’t you bring her here, Ser Bronn? You know I have wanted revenge for a long time now? Why kill her in the comfort of her own home?”

“Your Highness, you assigned me to kill your brothers. I missed them by a day’s time. I took the opportunity to kill your greatest enemy, bring pieces of her to you, and you complain?”

“I wanted to see her suffer like my Joffrey suffered! I wanted to use her to taunt her idiot brother! I wanted…..I wanted to see how the bloody little dove has grown into this formidable leader. Now, I’ll never have the chance...But, perhaps we can use this to our advantage.”

“How so, Your Grace?”

“If the bastard has not been informed yet of Sansa Stark’s demise, we shall send him the pieces. To send a message that we are not to be toyed with.” Cersei sneered, while Qyburn smirked.

* * *

 

Blood was flowing out of Sansa’s room on the flooding hall’s floor. Jon wadded through it to get to the door. Something was wrong, the door was sealed shut. He screamed her name and banged his fists on the door. No answer. He unsheathed Longclaw, trying to break the door’s handle to no avail. He felt hot tears on his eyes. Why wasn’t it opening? 

_ You know nothing, Jon Snow. Open your eyes before it’s too late, Jon! _

Was that Bran’s voice?

He looked all around him to see if Bran had somehow managed to roll through the blood in the hall.

Then the door opened. Jon rushed through the door and there was no blood to be found. There was also no Sansa. 

What in Seven Hells?!

“Jon! Wake up!” Davos shook him from his sleep.

“What is it, Davos?” Jon sleepily peered up at him. Davos had a somber look on his face and downcast his eyes. Something had happened. He rose out of bed and narrowed his eyes at his loyal advisor.

“Davos, tell me. What is wrong?”

“We received a raven from Winterfell early this morning. Lady…. Sansa was killed last night.” Davos’ voice broke and Jon numbly laughed. 

This must be some sick joke.

“This is a nightmare and I’ll wake up from it. Or I am truly dead because Sansa isn’t dead.”

Davos looked at him with pity.

“Jon….they found her blood all over her floor. Her clothes were ripped to shreds and they found matted pieces of her hair...they also found some bones. I….don’t have words to tell you how truly sorry I am.”

Jon shook with anger. 

“That’s not possible….Ser Brienne, Ser Jaime, Podrick, Arya, and Gendry were there.”

“....Ser Jaime has been captured by Daenerys. He was going towards Kings Landing. Ser Brienne and Podrick were going after him. Arya is heard to be with Sandor and  Gendry has headed off to the Storm Lands.”

“What about the bloody fucking guards?! The ones posted to protect her!? What about them?” Jon bellowed with tears streaming down his face. The last time they talked, they were arguing over what he was doing. What was it worth now? Everything he had done to protect the person he loved…..was for naught. She was dead now and probably died feeling that he hated her and didn’t want anything to do with her. When that couldn’t be further from the truth. What did Jon have to live for now? Sansa was the one who reignited him. The one who stirred a fire within him whenever they were together. Gods….how  _ relieved  _ he felt when found out they were  _ cousins _ . All those feelings he had  _ felt _ since Castle Black….weren’t  _ wrong. _

He felt Davos’ hand stroke his back. But no soothing or kind words would fix the wound of him failing another woman he loved by choosing damned duty over love.

  



End file.
